Where is your Ginestlay?

Where is your Ginestlay?

In the movie, Lion, and the book, A Long Way Home, five year old, Saroo, fell asleep on a train and woke to find himself hundreds of miles from the only life he had known, far away from the love of his family and the security of his small impoverished village. He desperately pleaded with strangers to help him find his way back, but he didn’t properly know the name of his province, only what he phonetically remembered as “Ginestlay”, the place he knew as home – a place where on a map, did not exist.

Today, while standing at my window, as I often do watching wildlife come and go, I watched as a young squirrel slowly made his way down from a tree, across the grass and sidewalk, slowly moving toward the bird-bath. It was apparent that the squirrel wasn’t watching where it was going but had its eye on his surroundings for any threat. When it came to the bath it effortlessly jumped up to the rim and took a fresh drink of water, surefooted, having done it a hundred times before. A moment later the squirrel jumped down and moved slowly back across the sidewalk, the grass, then back up the tree.

Now, I know that a squirrel and a little Indian boy don’t have much in common, but while watching this squirrel it occurred to me that as young as it was, it had come to know this small part of its world as its home. Its “Ginestlay”. It was familiar and secure with its environment.

To me, Ginestlay represents home. No matter the size of it, no matter the cleanliness of it, how formidable or not, it is the place where we are most familiar and comfortable. My Ginestlay is a place where love is, a place where I call home.

Where is your Ginestlay?